


Finding Home

by LaMorenaReina



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 19:29:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13508250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaMorenaReina/pseuds/LaMorenaReina
Summary: “Growing up sucks, Leo. I wouldn’t recommend it.”Or: Karen faces the truth of after while trying to live her life. Leo and Karen become friends. Karen and Frank figure some things out.





	Finding Home

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, babes. Look at this leviathan of a one-shot. This was borne from a random Tumblr prompt (not for Kastle). I love talking about this shit so comments make my day. You can find me on Tumblr @ Lamorenareina.
> 
> Of course, I don't own anything about these characters. I just stan for them sometimes. Basically all the time.

The Liebermans are making dinner on Friday and Frank, to her profound satisfaction and amusement, bashfully invites her. Both the satisfaction and the amusement come from his shyness as much as from the invitation itself. He leans against her counter with steadily reddening ears, fumbled explanations and shifting eyes.   

“You want me to go?”

He rubs his nose with the pad of his thumb and stares at her for a moment. She takes a sip of wine and then holds the glass to her chest. She watches him back.

“They’re, uh, shit, they’re…important, ya know?”

She understands even if it fails to answer her question on the surface. She nods. 

“They are.”

His timidness disappears. Shoulders evening out, he stands to his full height. He leans just the tiniest bit closer as if to tell her a secret.

“You’re important too.”

She knows that both uses of important are equally ponderous but with different meanings. His inflection and gaze alert her to this fact. He could have used the same tone and she would still know that he was talking about different things. They just _know_ with each other sometimes. She smiles, open and sweet.

“Should I dress up?”

He graces her with that lopsided grin that makes her knees weak. She thinks, at this point, he knows what it does to her, which is why he does it. The wily bastard.

“Wear whatever the hell you want." 

He has this way of talking to her sometimes. It might be his textured baritone, rich like a shot of the good bourbon she can never afford, or the way his eyes do a languid drag over her person, the way he stares so unyieldingly, that gives the concession a hint of something else. The sip of wine she takes is just sweet enough on her tongue.

“Is there a dress code?”

“No." 

“You’re sure?”

He rolls his eyes and reaches forward to pull her glass away from her. He ignores her half-hearted objections and finishes the glass. She launches a grape from the bowl in front of her and he catches it with ease before popping it into his mouth.

“It’s just dinner, Karen.”

“I’ll kill you if I’m underdressed.”

“Don’t I know it.”

 

___

Frank needs a moment, apparently.

His silence on the way out of the city had been the first clue. He didn’t even lambaste the downright grating pop song she had chosen just to annoy him. He simply turned it up to drown out her singing. And now, even with the keys taken from the ignition, he sits with his hands flat against his thighs and eyes forward. She decides that he can have exactly as long as it takes her to check her makeup before she hauls him out of the car. She checks her lipstick a few times because she feels charitable and she understands what this means to him. He was like this when she met Curtis too. She really likes Curtis. He has good taste in coffee and even better taste in books.

She reaches over to thread her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, massaging gently for a few moments. He turns to look at her slowly. She leans over to press her lips against his cheekbone. His eyes close for the briefest instant before he looks at her again.

“Frank,” she says softly.

“Hm?”

“Get out of the car.”

“Yeah…yeah alright.”

When he continues to watch her without moving, she lets out a deep sigh.  She unbuckles her seatbelt and then quickly unbuckles his. He raises an eyebrow. Yes, she had a glass of wine while getting ready and, yeah, she is feeling light and free and a little bold. She grabs the wine she got for Sarah and gets out of the car knowing that he’ll follow.

He scrambles out of the car after her muttering several curses that make her laugh. She turns to face him while walking backwards towards the house in her cobalt heels, the two bottles of wine held out at her sides like they do this all the time and like she makes a habit of letting loose instead of working incessantly. It does get him to snort and shake his head at her, eyes soft and fond, so she feels like her ambition of making this night easy for him is working at least marginally. She pauses to let him catch up to her. _It’s going to be fine, Frank._ He nods and rests his forehead against hers for a brief moment. _Okay._ She kisses his cheek once more and then turns to prance up the steps.

Yeah, that glass of wine did her good.

She is only mildly taken aback when the door opens before she can ring the bell. A tall, thin girl with long hair stands in the doorway. Her lips stretch into a wide smile.

“Hi, Karen! You are Karen, right? Cause it’ll be awkward if you’re not.”

Karen smiles.

“The one and only. You must be Leo.”

Leo beams at the idea that Karen knows who she is. She starts chatting animatedly about how excited she is to finally meet her and Karen responds with her own excitement. Leo practically blushes when Karen shares how much she has heard about her. They pause when Frank clears his throat behind her. Leo blinks as if she had forgotten that he would be coming too as if Karen would even be here without him, and then her smile turns familiar and warm. Frank wears a similar smile when Leo throws her arms around him. They exchange a few quiet words before Leo grabs Karen’s hand and pulls her into the house. 

Leo yells at her parents that Karen has arrived. Frank mutters something decidedly bitter.  Leo hears him and takes his hand to reassure him that yes, she still cares about him too. She maturely responds to his sarcastic thanks with a simple pat on his muscled arm. She disappears into the kitchen and her mother comes out.

Sarah Lieberman is stunning. She wears a simple dress that flatters her curves and her hair falls in loose waves below her shoulders. She greets Karen warmly with a hug and thankfully accepts the two bottles of wine with a joke. Karen likes her already.

She holds a thumbs-up behind the woman’s back when Sarah offers Frank a hug because, yeah, she knows about the kiss. His eyes widen comically. She mouths “holy shit” and the tips of his ears redden, much to her arrant delight. Her face is smooth when Sarah turns back to her and takes her coat. 

“Jesus Christ. Fucking behave, please. Can’t take you anywhere.”

His voice is low against her ear after Sarah takes their coats to what Karen assumes is the coat closet. She pats his cheek gently with a soft smile and makes no promises. A teenage boy with large headphones around his neck steps into the living room and takes note of their proximity with practiced disinterest.

“Hey, kid,” Frank says

Zach nods. Karen gets the sense that there is respect there, maybe even some tenderness. He looks at Karen with a raised eyebrow.

“You his girlfriend?”

Both Frank and Sarah, who has just rejoined them, make noises of disapproval. Sarah berates him for being rude. Karen hardly minds the question or Zach’s reticence. He reminds her of Kevin at that age, all distance and quiet observations revealed in terse questions and blunt statements.

“Nope. Friend. I’m Karen.”

Zach looks at his mother in confusion.

“Thought he was bringing his girlfriend?”

Karen turns to Frank in mock outrage. He startles at her glare, brown eyes wide and apologetic, looking sincerely chagrined. She smacks him in the chest with the back of her hand and knows that he’ll barely feel it.  

“You have a girlfriend and didn’t tell me?” 

He rubs at the spot and his eyes flash in understanding – and after her wink – in mirth. He smirks and ducks his head.

“Nah. Come on. You know I’d tell you first.”

“You’d better.”

There is a teasing quality to their conversation but there’s also something simmering underneath the surface of their jesting. She needs more wine for this but figures she should at least wait until she gets some food. David comes into the living room all curly hair and long legs with a wide smile. He immediately wraps his arms around Frank. She hears a muttered _asshole_ and _I’m glad you’re here_ and she doesn’t bother to hide her smile. She asks Zach if they’re always like this and he nods with just the barest hint of a smile. She makes a show of rolling her eyes and counts it a victory when the smile grows a bit.

She accepts the hug from David and she thinks that he is exactly what she pictured: quirky and amiable with intelligent eyes that spark with an eerie sense of knowing. They trade a look that, she thinks, is meant to convey gratitude on behalf of the man watching them raptly and who clearly feels unmotivated to pretend that he isn’t. The moment is broken when Leo calls that the table is set and asks if Karen will sit next to her. She does as the adults, Frank included, set drinks on the table. Karen rests her chin in her hand and fixes Leo with a smile.

“So, Leo, tell me about yourself.”

The girl looks equal parts surprised and pleased with Karen’s interest in her. She pushes some hair behind her ear and furrows her brows in thought.

“Well, I like to read. I’m sure Pete told you that.”

Pete. The name still feels weird and spongy in her mouth whenever she has to say it. It’s much easier to hear Leo call him that than it does to actually refer to him as such. Karen shrugs.

“He might have mentioned it. Favorite book?”

“That’s such a hard question, Karen. I like so many. What’s yours?”

“ _Pride and Prejudice_. It’s cliché, I know, but it’s very witty. I love that it’s about a woman trying to figure out how to be herself and be happy in a time when women were only considered important if they got married or had kids.”

Leo’s eyes light up.

“Have you read _Pride and Prejudice and Zombies_?”

“Only like three times. Come on. Lizzie Bennett fighting zombies? It’s the best.”

“I know right?”

“ _Sense and Sensibilities and Sea Monsters_?”

Leo shakes her head.

“Nope. Should I read it?”

“Not as fun as _Pride and Prejudice and Zombie_ s but still worth a read." 

Leo looks as if she’s making a mental note to read the book. Karen mentions that she has a copy and that she’ll get Frank (Pete) to bring it over soon. She looks over to see Frank standing in the kitchen and watching her exchange with Leo. She watches the emotions coalescing on his face and she knows, no matter how much he cares for this family, how hard it must be for him to be here, in a house so full of life, and remember his own.

She imagines Leo and Lisa would have been good friends. Maria and Sarah too, probably. 

She makes a silly face at him and he smiles back. He nods to the bottle of wine on the counter as if to ask if she wants some. She nods eagerly and he chuckles. David says something as he watches them and Frank mumbles something that looks suspiciously like _shut the fuck up_. Frank comes over and fills her glass. She makes a rule not to touch it until she’s eaten at least half of her dinner.

Once everyone is seated, they lapse into a mostly easy conversation. Frank and David bicker back and forth and it confirms for Karen, not that she needed any more confirmation, that this man is Frank’s brother. She occupies herself by talking to Sarah, Leo, and Zach. They ask about her job and she tells them the sanitized version of the story she is working on. This place, warm and cozy and chaotic, does not need to be tainted by the sordid details of the crime in Hell’s Kitchen.

She sees the questions about her childhood and family coming from a mile away so she takes a generous swig of wine. The plan is to be honest and ten times as vague. There is still so much Frank has yet to learn about her, so much they haven’t gotten to talk about yet. Her food still goes down smooth when Zach asks if she has any siblings and thinks it must be because she practiced this.

“A brother. You remind me of him actually.”

Zach seems interested in that knowledge, unsure of whether or not it’s a good thing. Frank, who has been quietly listening, seems to listen more intently. He looks as if he’s thinking of how to steer the conversation in a different direction for her sake because even if he doesn’t know the whole story he knows that Kevin has been dead for years.  She’ll tell him the whole story soon. She will.

“Is he older or younger than you?” Leo asks.

“Older.”

“Do you guys get along?”

This question comes from Zach, who unwittingly uses the present tense, and it makes her laugh. This laugh is an octave or two lower than any other laugh from her this evening and she figures that the only person who notices is Frank. He tilts his head in question. He pushes his foot against hers under the table. She pushes her own foot against his to let him know the questions are okay.

“Do you and Leo get along?”

Both kids make a face. David and Sarah snort affectionately. David makes some rib about it being like World War III in their house and Sarah raises her glass in affirmation. Karen raises hers too and takes a drink.

“Ever been to Vermont?” she asks Leo and Zach.

They shake their heads. She tells them about how pretty it is and how frigid the winters are. She shares a story about how one time Kevin had convinced her to lick a telephone pole and her tongue had gotten stuck. Even Zach sniggers at her misfortune and she pretends to be offended.

“How was I supposed to know my tongue would get stuck?” 

“Everyone knows that.”

“Nobody told me that little fact.”

She steers them away from talk about her family and the conversation meanders along. Eventually, they clear their dinner dishes from the table and Sarah pulls an apple pie out of the oven. Frank swaps out his wine for a cup of coffee but Karen has another glass because she’s having a good time and doesn’t have to drive.

They end up playing a couple rounds of UNO, which Karen hasn’t played in years, and she discovers that Frank Castle is fucking competitive when it comes to games. At least against her. He manages to turn beating her into a tactical assault and gets Leo and Zach on his side. She and Sarah team up against Frank while David just seems happy to have Frank in the room.

She figures that coming home probably hasn’t been easy on David or their family.

She likes seeing Frank like this, with a smile and playful aggression, mostly aimed at David. He listens intently to the kids when they speak and asks attentive follow-up questions. He fits here like the cherished uncle with brown hair curling against his forehead and a smile that stretches his face when Leo makes a clever joke. Sometimes, they just look at each other and they lean into that thing that they have. She’s flushed from the wine and his smirk and the looks he sneaks her way when the Liebermans are distracted.

As they prepare to leave, Sarah gives him a knowing look as he kisses her cheek goodbye. He rolls his eyes and Karen turns away to put on her coat. Zach gives a wave from the couch. Leo wraps her arms around Karen’s waist and Karen finds it easy to return the hug. She feels an affinity with the girl that she thinks Frank might have anticipated. She hands Leo her phone and Leo lights up. _I can text you?_ Karen smiles. _Call too, if you want._ She casts a look over to Sarah to make sure that’s okay and Sarah smiles and nods. 

She kicks her shoes off as soon as they get in the car. The drive back is quiet, save for the music, and she is pleasantly tipsy. She can feel him looking over at her periodically but he never says anything. He walks her upstairs to her apartment and leans with his back to her door. She wonders if one day they’ll stand like this under different circumstances. She wonders.

“Are you okay?” she asks because he’s still being very quiet.

He bites his bottom lip thoughtfully and nods. 

“Yeah. You?”

“I like them.” 

He reaches out to grab the hem of her sweater and pull her closer. He doesn’t pull her into a hug, just closer. He rubs the fabric of the garment between his fingers. She lets out a breath when his finger grazes the skin of her stomach.

“They like you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He pulls her a little bit closer, still rubbing the sweater between his thumb and forefinger. If she shifts so that his skin will touch hers again, well, she’s had a few glasses of wine this evening. It must prompt him because he purposefully drags his knuckle from the waistband of her jeans to just under her bellybutton.

“Thank you for coming.”

“You’re family. Of course.”

And she actually means it in the sense of their deep and ever-developing friendship, which is ironic given the placement of his hand and the way her skin is flushed from more than the alcohol. He hums and kisses her temple. Then he lets go of her sweater, to her great disappointment. She gets it though. They’re taking this slow.

He tells her to go to bed and she assures him that she will. He waits until after he hears her locks turn to walk back down the hallway. He might be living as Pete Castiglione but he’s still Frank.

\---

She and Leo start up an on-going text conversation shortly after the dinner. They exchange reviews about books and movies. Leo Lieberman is unendingly hilarious. Karen finds herself laughing on more than one occasion at her desk, sometimes drawing strange looks from Ellison. The conversation shifts to boys, which isn’t wholly unexpected, and Karen finds that she has little wisdom to offer.

_Boys are stupid. - LL_

_Yeah, they are. Wait. Leo. Is there a boy? - KP_

_Maybe. He’s in my class. – LL_

_Oh, Pete is going to have a field day with this. – KP_

_You’re going to tell him aren’t you? – LL_

_Please don’t. Then he’ll tell my dad. – LL_

_Fair point. Your secret is safe with me. – KP_

  _Okay. How do you know if a boy likes you? – LL_

_(Shrugs) When you figure it out, let me know. Could use the help. – KP_

_You’re supposed to be the grown-up, Karen. – LL_

_Growing up sucks, Leo. I wouldn’t recommend it. - KP_

___

She thinks it only makes sense to get to know Sarah given how often she texts the woman’s kid. They meet up for lunch in the city and spend the better part of an hour laughing. Some parts of their conversation are uttered in hushed tones and wary glances because government conspiracy and all that shit. Karen likes her. Sarah’s shy smile doesn’t do much to hide the fact that she has a low tolerance for subterfuge and is a straight shooter.

“Your brother,” Sarah starts slowly, “You were very sweet with the kids but it seemed like there was something else there. I’m sorry they kept asking you about it.” 

Karen blinks in complete surprise. Of all the men she thought they might talk about, her brother was not one of them. She takes a sip of her water.

“It’s okay. Those were normal questions.”

Sarah nods and doesn’t say anything. The silence settles between them and it feels weighty but not pointed. Sarah just watches her and Karen wonders if this is what it feels like to the people she interviews for stories. She takes another sip of water because her throat feels dry. She decides that she’s okay with Sarah knowing about her brother because she knows more about the Lieberman family than they do about her.

“He died in a car accident when he was eighteen. I was driving and lost control of the car.”

It is the truth, technically. She had been driving and she had lost control of the car. The problem is in the why of it, why Kevin was home from school in the first place and why she had jerked the steering wheel. It wouldn’t be easy to process and confess if she had been drunk or something but she wonders if it would be easier than the truth, the tangled array of insanity that was their life back then. Not that her life now isn’t much of the same just in different ways.

“I’m so sorry, Karen. I know there’s nothing to say to that. I never knew what to say when people would tell me they were sorry about David when I thought he was dead.” 

Sarah speaks so airily about a time that had to have been the most singularly painful time in her life and it somehow comforts Karen.  Sarah calls the waiter over and asks for two glasses of wine. _We need it_ , _stat._  He gives them an understanding and sympathetic look and they share a laugh when he leaves to fill their order.

They chat about Zach and Leo, and adjusting to David being home, and eventually, they talk about Frank. Sarah is as direct about this as she has been about anything.

God, Karen likes her.

“So you two doing the ‘just friends’ things because it’s complicated for him or because you haven’t figured out that you have feelings for each other? Neither of you are stupid so I’m not sure how that could be the case,” Sarah says.

“Well just slide right in without the foreplay. It’s fine. I’ll adjust,” Karen says and smirks at Sarah’s grimace.

“Sounds dreadful.”

“Terrible.”

“I need to be worked up nice and good before it goes in, you know? Some women can just be ready with a look but not me.”

Karen laughs.

“Damn, me neither.” 

“Gotta get a man that’s good with his mouth and hands.”

“You can say that again.”

Sarah fixes her with a look.

“So about Pete…?”

Karen’s eyes widen. She shakes her head vehemently and waves her hands. She has to quickly signal to their waiter that she isn’t trying to call him over when he looks alarmed. Her cheeks are on fire.

“We’ve never…I wouldn’t…honestly, you know more about his mouth than I do.” 

She freezes. Shit. Why did she say that? Karen Page, what the actual fuck? She rushes to apologize but Sarah just laughs heartily.

“Soft, if you’re wondering. Didn’t last long.”

Karen admits that she will likely die of embarrassment. Sarah just raises her glass. _I’m having a great time._ She turns serious shortly after and Karen assures her that she and Frank are just friends. There could be more, maybe, but it is complicated for him, she thinks. She pictures Maria and her chestnut tresses and dulcet smile. She thinks of how she knows more about Maria because it has gotten easier for Frank to talk about her, share his memories of her. Sarah just listens. She looks thoughtfully out the window and Karen gets lost in her own musings. When Sarah looks back at her, the smile she wears is sagacious and considerate.

“What do you want, Karen?”

The question floors her and it shouldn’t. It really shouldn’t.

\---

Frank spends a lot of time at her place.

She keeps his favorite beer in the fridge and favorite coffee in the cabinet. He has a favorite mug. She buys an extra toothbrush and some sweatpants to keep in her drawer for when he feels like spending the night. She’s been to his place a few times after some interviews that were closer to his place than hers. He’s got a simple one bedroom with a bath and kitchen. It’s a decent apartment. He doesn’t keep much in it by way of decoration and furniture. Only what he needs and what she might need if she stays over.

It feels like he’s living in it just waiting to evacuate at any moment. He shrugs when she points it out. _You gonna leave now, ma’am?_ She ignores his sarcasm and starts walking around the place, ideas forming.

“No, Karen.”

“I haven’t even done anything yet.”

“Keyword being yet.”

“How much can I spend?”

“Of my money or yours? And spend on what?”

“Your money, obviously, and this apartment renovation.” 

He fights her on it. She wins, of course. _You’re allowed to have a home, Frank._ His look is dour at her statement but she convinces him with a kiss to his cheek and some pleading. _Let me do this. Please._ She learns that Frank Castle can be broken down by her begging and doesn’t even require much to give. He finally relents with a stern warning about staying on budget. _Sir, yes, sir_. She doesn’t plan on going over but she knows he won’t do much if she does.  

She adds a few things to his place to make it look homey: some plants (real and fake), an actual bookshelf, a new comforter set, and a fresh coat of paint on the walls and cabinets. She posits that he might enjoy making himself a bedframe since he’s good with his hands. The Liebermans volunteer their backyard and garage for this very purpose and, yeah, he likes building it. Leo and Zach help out while David, according to Frank, just sits on his ass and messes with his computer.

Karen knows he likes this even if it hurts him too.

___

She gets pulled into more bullshit. She should have excepted it.

This time it has absolutely nothing to do with Frank. To be fair, the stuff with Lewis had been all her. That had been a rare instance in which Frank had inserted himself into her commotion instead of the other way around.

This is not about Frank at all. This particular brand of absurdity has everything to do with Matthew fucking Murdock. Matthew Murdock: her former employer, her ex-boyfriend, her friend when he felt like telling the truth. The Bulletin gets some tips about Daredevil sightings and, of course, they come straight to her desk. Apparently, she has situated herself as the vigilante specialist and this is, per everyone else’s opinion, her area of expertise. Except it really, really isn’t and she was just unknowingly dating the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.  

They never found his body after Midland Circle and nobody made the connection between the disappearance of Matt Murdock, idealistic lawyer, and the abrupt cessation of Daredevil activity. Technically, Matt is missing. She and Foggy had wept for him like he was dead though. But she had wondered.

She had wondered because there was no body and maybe, just maybe?

So, she meets with the sources who will talk to her but it never quite leads to anything. There is never enough to write a story backed up by verifiable facts and never enough to produce a resurrected Matt. 

Frank is lying on her couch, book in hand and arm behind his head when she finally decides to talk to him about it. He raises an eyebrow at her deep sigh and the rough hand she pushes through her hair. She knows he’s intuited that something is wrong with her. He gives her looks, asks if everything is okay, gives her longer and more pointed looks when she just shakes her head but doesn’t say anything. He must figure she’s working on a story that has her fucked sideways and she’ll talk to him about it eventually. She always does.

“Finally gonna tell me what’s up?”

He sits up, one leg bent on the couch and the other resting off of it. She sits in the space between his legs, back resting against the leg pressed into the back of the couch. He hands her his mug of coffee from the table and she cradles it against her chest after she takes a few sips.

“There have been Daredevil sightings.”

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t say anything. He just watches her, eyes searching when she turns to look at him. She sighs again.

“I haven’t found anything,” she says.

He nods and looks away. He has the look he gets when things are turning over in his brain. Sometimes she imagines his thoughts tumbling over themselves like a load of laundry in a dryer. She pictures him watching the clothes rotate, musing about which piece of clothing he actually needs, and taking that one out only to leave the rest toppling over the others until they settle down. He meets her eyes again.

“Think there’s anything to find?”

The question is gentle. She draws her top lip between her teeth. He rests his back against the arm of her couch. The leg she has been leaning against shifts slightly behind her. _Am I hurting you?_ He shakes his head. She leans back further because she likes being pressed against him. 

“They never found his body." 

He nods again. There are things he still isn’t saying. She can feel it every time the muscle in his thigh jumps behind her. When she turns to him this time, his jaw ticks and his eyes are dark in the dim living room.

“Want me to look for him?”

She does a double take. He meets her gaze resolutely. She sits up and puts the mug back on the table. She runs a hand through her hair. She shakes her head because this is not a possibility she had considered. He sits up and scoots forward until his front is nearly pressed to her side. She turns to press her temple to his. She breathes in the smell of his shampoo and beard oil.

“This isn’t your problem. You don’t need to worry about this,” she says.

He pulls away so he can look at her.

“Because you got it handled or because it’s Red?”

She hears it in his voice. The thing he hasn’t been saying. The thing she really wants him to say but it would mean he has to say some other things too. They both would. She shakes her head.

“I’m not trying to find him because…we were over before— “

“Don’t matter why you wanna find him. I’ll still do it.”

He still doesn’t understand. She can see it in his resignation, in the way he looks at her. He pulls away. He adjusts so that he’s sitting with his feet planted on the floor. He sits there for a second and she waits. She waits for him to say what she wants him to say because he has to do this first. She can’t because she wasn’t married before she met him and she and Matt were over and never due for a comeback. And he must know that she’s waiting for him. He has to know that she doesn’t want to rush him or push him away, wants to respect his grieving because he deserves that. His children deserve that. Maria deserves that.

He stands and moves toward the door. She just watches him for a second before she gets up and goes after him. She pushes the door closed when he opens it. He looks startled as he steps back. She leans against the door to stop him from leaving.

“If Matt walked through this door right now, nothing would change between me and you. Leave this alone unless you believe that.”

His nose scrunches. He looks away in thought. He shakes his head and it must be at something he’s thinking because she hasn’t said anything else.

“Do you want us to change if he comes back?” she asks.

He takes his time answering though she sees his eyes flash at the question.

“No.”

“I’m looking for him because he’s my family too.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t okay me just to shut me up because you don’t want to talk about this.”

“I’m not, Karen.”

“Don’t do this if you need to be the Punisher to find him.”

“Don’t need a tac vest to find Altar Boy.”

It makes her laugh even if she doesn’t want to. He smirks. She leans her head back against the door and closes her eyes, feeling deflated after their exchange. She still doesn’t want him to leave and he seems less inclined to. He comes closer to lock the door behind her. Then he pulls her to the couch. _Show me what you got so far_. She pulls out her notes.

___

She turns her attention to a story about a hate crime against a black teenager in Harlem that is erroneously not being treated as one. It takes up a lot of her time and her work on the Daredevil sightings becomes nonexistent. Frank doesn’t talk to her about it unless she asks and she stops asking when her current story becomes all-consuming.

She chalks up her access to the neighborhood in Harlem as the benefits of her blossoming friendship with Claire Temple and Claire’s relationship with Luke Cage. There is no way she would have gotten her interviews with her blonde hair and blue eyes just by asking nicely and why should she? Trust is earned and she hasn’t done shit to earn it from the black community in Harlem.

But they trust Luke and Luke trusts Claire and Claire trusts her. She spends her mornings, afternoons and evenings interviewing black and Latino families as they lament and she goes home to cry, shower, and then head back to the office to write scathing pieces excoriating the perpetrator and the systems in place that allow him to get away with such dehumanizing bullshit.

She wonders what it says about her that she considers asking the Punisher to come out of retirement for this. She doesn’t because what the hell can a white man with a small armory actually do?

Not a fucking thing except make it worse.

___

 

She gets home late one night to find Frank standing outside her apartment. She frowns because he has a key and is more than capable of getting inside without her. He’s leaning against the wall next to her door, head tilted back and eyes closed. He opens them when he hears her heels clicking against the floor.

“You okay?”

He nods.

“You got a visitor.”

It’s late, she’s had a very long day, and is very confused. She frowns at him again. He gives her a knowing look and gestures with his head to her apartment. She looks at her door and then back at him. Her eyes widen.

“Is he...?”

“Yeah—” Frank turns to speak pointedly at the door now, his voice never changing volume. “—Unless he climbed out the window but I told him I’d kick his fucking ass if he did.”

She hears something shift loudly behind her door and she assumes that’s Matt way of letting Frank know that he hasn’t climbed out of the window. Frank looks satisfied and turns to her.

“Did you bring him here?" 

Frank shrugs.

“He wanted to see you. He, uh…Look, Karen, he’s a pain in the ass, not gonna hear any arguments from me about it— “

Something shifts again in her apartment. Her furniture better be in correct position when she gets in there. She thinks she hears Matt clear his throat. Frank glances at the door. 

“Hey, shut the fuck up in there, Red.”

Karen thinks she’s either going to start laughing hysterically or burst into tears at any moment.

“He’s an asshole, yeah, but he wanted to see you. I, uh, I know what that’s like. To, shit, I don’t know, want to see you and not know how to just walk to the door.”

She has a lot to say to that statement. She has an entire dissertation ready on her tongue but she holds it back. She had already busted his balls for his absence after the Billy and Rawlins debacle. She stares at the door because this isn’t about Frank. She and Frank are okay. They’re okay and he dragged Matt to see her because she needed to know that Matt was alive. She just keeps staring at the door.

“I’m gonna go for a walk,” he says pushing himself off the wall. 

“Are you going to come back?”

He pauses behind her.

“You want me to?” 

She nods without hesitation as her gaze remains on the door in front of her. He rests his large hand on her waist and squeezes gently. She rests a hand over his, eyes still on the door, and caresses his knuckles, smoother than they used to be, with her fingertips. They aren’t making much noise but she wonders if Matt can hear her skin sliding over his. He lets her go and heads down the hallway. He opts for the stairs instead of the elevator. She waits until she can’t hear his footsteps before she opens the door.

Only the floor lamp by her bookshelf is turned on. Matt is leaning against her windowsill; the cane he doesn’t even need is placed next to him. She almost expects him to be dressed as Daredevil but he’s got on a normal black suit and white button up. He looks towards the door as she closes it. She toes off her heels and leaves her purse on the hook before she comes further into the room.

“Hey, Karen.”

His voice is soft and familiar and she realizes how much she’s missed him. She walks steadily over to him and he stands up straight as she gets closer. She wraps him in a hug. He falters as her arms go around him and his come to rest against her back cautiously as if he’s waiting for her to pull away at any moment and punch him. She pulls away when she’s satisfied that he won’t disappear.

“Drink?” she asks.

He looks more than a little bemused.

“Uh, yeah, sure. What do you have?”

He settles for a beer and she doesn’t mention that it’s the beer she keeps around for Frank. She just pours herself a glass of wine. He remains by the window while she sits on the couch. She props her feet on her coffee table. She has practice with this sort of thing by now.

“Can we agree to just tell each other the truth tonight?” she asks.

His fingers are a little tight against his bottle as is his grip on the ledge. She tries not to think of the white roses she’s placed in that very spot before. He takes a drink of his beer and nods.

“Yes.”

She lets the silence hang because it feels okay to. She figures that since he actually is alive she has plenty of time to ask him the questions she really wants to ask. Truth is, she doesn’t even know what’s important anymore. She tries to decide what matters for tonight.

“Tell me how you got out of Midland Circle alive.”

Elektra, apparently. She had kept him from being crushed somehow. Karen guesses it pays to be a super-powered, ancient weapon of some sort. She dragged him out from the rubble and took him to the nuns where they cared for him. He didn’t remember much for a long time but it eventually came back. She supposes the real twist of the story is that mommy dearest lives in the same convent he was brought to. Turns out Elektra has known who his mother is for a while, curtesy of Stick, and figured this was the ideal juncture of his life for him to be acquainted with her. 

“Well, shit,”

He smiles.

“Yeah. Exactly.”

“Do you like her?”

He pauses at the question.

“My mother?”

“Yeah.” 

She gets the impression that his expectations for this conversation are being subverted at every turn. He shakes his head with a short laugh. She remembers that she used to love hearing his laugh, that it used to make her giddy.

“Yeah, I guess.”

She shrugs. That’s fair. She has a terrible relationship with her own mother for plenty of reasons. She thinks an _I guess_ is more than enough to build on.

“We had a funeral for you.”

He hangs his head and she should have known to expect such a sullen, guilt-ridden expression from him at some point in this conversation. 

“I know. Karen, I’m so sorry. I should have come sooner.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“At first, I couldn’t. I was injured, didn’t know what was what. After, I figured I’d just disappear completely. Stay out of your lives.”

“You were going to let us think you were dead even when you weren’t?”

“I thought it would be better that way. Maybe give you and Foggy a chance at a normal life.”

He says ‘normal’ with such wryness that she knows what he’s thinking about. His head tilts in the direction of where Frank keeps an extra pair of his boots. She sees it and ignores it because her relationship with Frank doesn’t require an explanation.  

“So when you decided that you were going to put on your little red suit again you didn’t think that was the moment to come tell us that you weren’t crushed by a building?”

His body changes. She has seen him in action as Daredevil on a few occasions. There is a way that his body swells. He takes up more space when he looks like this and she feels it as if the shadow of his body becomes bigger across the floor. She doesn’t understand the shift until he speaks.

“That’s not me, Karen.”

She blinks.

“What?”

“I haven’t worn the suit since Midland Circle.”

She processes the information. She drains the rest of her glass because she really is too sober for this shit. She gets up to pour herself another glass. He declines her offer for another beer. He tells her that the reason he came out of hiding is to find out who’s been running around as Daredevil. It helped him realize that his plan of just disappearing was a terrible idea. _You fucking think, Matt?_ His shame is palpable in the small space.

She is furious at him. She is. She is also so undeniably grateful that he is not, in fact, dead and is standing in her living room in a suit as if he just came from work. She sighs. She rests her forehead in her hand to get her bearings.

“You sent Frank to find me?”

She drinks from her glass. She looks up at him as he moves closer to her. She sets the glass on the table.

“He offered when I told him I was looking for you. Well, when I thought it was you.”

Her sentence only confirms what he already suspects from Frank’s easy access to her apartment, their hushed conversation in the hallway, and his things scattered around the space. Matt sits on the edge of her coffee table facing the door, resting his arms on his legs the way Frank does sometimes. 

“You two are close.”

“We are.”

He lets her easy admittance rest in the space between them. It settles in the cleft that has steadily widened between them in the last year, filled with his lies and her own artifice. She feels unrepentant, centered in the truth of what it means to be Karen. And even as Matt sits a few feet from her, she wants Frank to come back because there are things he needs to know and the wait has been more than long enough.   

“He’s different,” Matt says softly.

“And he’s the same,” she says just as softly.

Matt chuckles. She can tell he interprets her statement in the ways that she means and in some ways that she doesn’t. But that’s always been Matt.

“He’s downstairs.”

She smiles. 

“Did he ever actually leave?”

Matt nods, a smile still playing on his lips. She watches him and thinks that he’s changed some. He’s different and he’s the same too. 

“Yeah, for a while. Got back a few minutes ago.” 

“How’d he get you here?”

“Threatened to beat the shit out of me.”

She looks at him askance. Not because she thinks Frank wouldn’t do it. She just knows Matt can fight too. She figures Matt can handle himself against Frank, strong and ruthless as Frank can be. She voices her doubts about a beating from Frank being the reason. _He hits really hard, Karen._ She knows he’s teasing her. She smiles. _I bet._ She gives him a serious look and he must be able to sense it.

“You need to tell Foggy you’re alive. Tonight. I think he’ll actually punch you.”

He makes a face.

“Yeah, probably.”

She stands. He does too. They have so much more to talk about. They do. But he’s alive and she’s happy about it, even if she’s mad too, and they have time. She hugs him again and asks if he wants to get lunch in a week or so. Maybe it might be the start of them actually getting to know one another, the real version of themselves. Again, he looks baffled by her offer, her easiness, and she smiles. He agrees to lunch and they set a date. He pauses at the door and looks like he wants to say something else.

“Goodnight, Matt.”

He nods and mutters a goodbye softly as he closes the door. She inhales deeply and lets out a long breath. Good fucking lord.

 ___

She’s still standing by the coffee table when Frank walks in. He closes the door and comes to stand in front of her. He looks her over.

“You okay?”

She nods. She feels content to watch him, trace the shape of his face with her eyes. She lets herself think about what it would be like to do it with her lips even if she knows she can’t and won’t right now.  He holds a small brown box in front of her face. She looks at the label and her lips stretch into a smile.

“An eclair?” 

“Figured you’d need it.”

She takes the box, inhales the scent of the pastry, and puts it on the coffee table. She wraps her arms around his neck. She has a thing for hugging him. She likes the way his beard feels against her neck. She likes the way his arms feel around her body. She likes when he lets his lips rest against her shoulder. He places a firm hand on her back to press her further into him. _I need to tell you something_. He pulls just far enough away to see her face. If he’s worried, he hides it well. She presses her face back into his neck. _I need to tell you a lot of things_.

He pulls away and goes to make coffee, in part to go with her dessert and because he must anticipate that this will take long. She remains standing when he sits. She has already decided to tell him everything. And she does. She tells him about her parents and her brother, about Union Allied and James Wesley. She paces across her living room, voice mostly steady but harsh with brittle anger in some places. 

Frank tracks her every moment. He listens quietly. His eyes darken when she talks about James Wesley and Wilson Fisk. He clenches and unfurls his fists several times throughout her story. When she finishes he just stares at her coffee table for nearly a minute as she leans against the wall next to the window, hair draped over one shoulder and hand on her cheek.

“Come here,” he says, voice rough, without looking up.

She hesitates before walking to him, steps sluggish and small. She stands in front of him and he looks up at her. He takes her hand and pulls her onto his lap. His wraps his arms around her waist. She reaches up to thread her fingers through the hair at his neck as an anchor and rests her cheek against the top of his head. He exhales and turns to bury his face in her shirt.

“I knew, yeah? Knew you’d seen some shit. Knew you’d been through some shit.”

His voice is muffled against her shirt but she can hear him. She smiles through her tears at his words because they’re so Frank and so them and it’s exactly what she needs and she didn’t even know it. She needs his easy acceptance, the certainty that comes with really knowing her. She’s imagined this moment. She thought about what she would say, what he would say in return. She had pictured it being much harder to tell him and maybe it would have been if she had told him earlier. But the words had come easy and nestled into the room in the spaces left by all the things left unspoken between them.

“Knew when you crossed that line in the hospital, see, cause you got that spine of steel from somewhere. Had to. And I’m sitting there thinking that you’re batshit, you know? But, shit, you got my attention.”

Her laugh is watery and she clings to him. She’s probably gripping his hair with too much force but he says nothing, just holds her tighter. He nuzzles her gently.

“I hate what’s happened to you. I hate the shit that people have done to you, that you’ve had to live through. I—” His rubs wide circles into her side with his hand. “—I just…Jesus, Karen, you gotta know that I think the fucking world of you. That ain’t gonna change. I know what that sounds like. Maybe it doesn’t mean shit cause who the fuck cares what I think but it is what it is.”

She has managed not to sob but her tears are steady against his hair and he just holds her when she tells him that it means something. _It means everything._ She pulls away periodically to wipe her face. He reaches up to brush some tears away with his thumb. It’s calloused against her skin and comforting. Something shifts in him and she knows that Frank is still there, cleaving to her, but the Punisher has emanated from that latent place in him. He holds her gaze. His eyes are cold, almost flat, but she understands it’s not for her.

“I got a bullet with Fisk’s name on it.” 

She knows that Frank has history with Wilson Fisk. Not as long as her own, but it’s there. She will ask him later what happened in that prison the day he escaped. She wants to know. But later.

“Get in line, Frank.”

She says it with a cheeky smile. He blinks and she can see Frank returning and his appellation receding. His lips quirk minutely like she’d hoped they would. He nestles his face into her neck.

“I know you can handle your shit, Kare. But I got you. I got you.”

“Okay,” she says.

“Not gonna fight me on it? Call me an overprotective asshole?”

She shakes her head. _Take the victory_. He hums and presses a kiss to her neck that has her going completely still. It feels like her entire body clenches when his lips meet her skin. Yeah, they’ve kissed cheeks and foreheads and hands but this is definitely different. He notices her stillness. He pulls away apologetically.

“Shit. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” 

She sighs. Her hands are still in his hair.

“It’s not that. I just…we should talk.”

He nods. He seems pensive for a while and she thinks he’s thinking about their impending conversation regarding their relationship. When he looks back at her, he seems cautious.

“Look, I’m glad you told me. I am. I wanted to know—” He looks away for a moment. “—Gotta ask though. Did you tell me all this tonight ‘cause of Murdock?”

She manages to not laugh at the way he says Murdock, dragging out the syllables. It’s a fair question. Matt comes back into her life and suddenly she tells him her entire life story. She could have told him the countless times they’ve spent on this same couch or on their walks around the city.

“I told you because of us. I looked at Matt and thought, not for the first time, that I don’t really know him but I want you to know me. Beyond all the stuff I never say, the stuff that you just get. I want you to know because you deserve to. You’re always so open with me. You let me get to know your family through you, even when it hurts you, and you don’t even know what Kevin’s favorite color was.” 

He’s quiet and thoughtful for a few moments. He nods like he understands and she hopes he does.

“What was it?”

“What was what?”

“Kevin’s favorite color.”

She laughs.

“White because he was a little asshole and just had to be different.”

“Think I would have liked him.”

It’s something about the statement that makes her affection for him soar. She tugs on his hair so that she can press a trail of kisses on the bridge of his nose because she loves it. She’s never kissed this spot but she’s thought about it. He smiles and there’s something there that makes her inquire about it.

Maria used to do that to him.

She closes her eyes at the knowledge. There’s suddenly something about it that feels like she’s intruding on Maria’s memory in a way that kissing his cheek or forehead just doesn’t. He senses her soberness and looks at her face.

“Didn’t tell you that so you’d stop doing it, Karen.”

She bites her top lip. It’s a tick, yeah, and something she does when she’s thinking. She looks away from him because she wants to trust him but this still feels so dreadfully off limits. He follows her line of sight and ducks into it. 

“Hey. Don’t do that.”

She sighs and shakes her head. She looks back to his imploring stare.

“I’ve thought about it for a while—” She smiles. “—I, um, I like your nose.”

“You and Maria both. Still can’t figure the shit out.”

He gives her that lopsided grin, the one he knows she likes, and his impish self-deprecation relieves her melancholy. She smiles and leans forward slowly, waiting for him to stop her. He doesn’t. She presses a kiss to the tip of his nose, one to the middle, and one between his eyes. He presses a soft kiss to her chin to let her know that it’s okay, that he’s okay.

“I do want to talk but can it wait until after I’ve slept for eight hours?”

He nods with a chuckle, kisses her collarbone, and lets her go. She stands up. She remembers the éclair on the table and groans in frustration. He shakes his head with a smile and puts it in the fridge for later. She offers him the couch or her bed but he declines because he has to work early. He lingers in the doorway longer than he normally might. She thinks it’s to reassure her after her myriad of confessions. She smiles and his lips quirk. He raps his knuckle on the door before finally taking off.

She collapses into bed.

___

She stops by Foggy’s apartment the next day. He opens the door and offers her a drink. She doesn’t take one because she has to go back to work at some point but keeps his coming as he alternates between shaking his head and decrying Matt. She listens quietly most of the time, sometimes offering a noise of affirmation and disbelief at their friend. He is more than a little mystified at her equanimity about the whole thing. She shrugs. _Nothing surprises me anymore._ He watches her for a long while and she knows that he knows.

“Your tranquility got anything to do with the fact that Frank Castle is the one that brought Matt to you?”

She shrugs again because she’s decided to be relaxed about this too. She knows Foggy has had suspicions. She thinks he’s held off on asking about it because she’s seemed settled. It probably helped that the Punisher has been MIA for a long time. And yeah, she probably should have just come out and said something. She thinks Frank would have sanctioned it easily enough. She would have told Foggy the truth if he had asked directly too.

“He’s around, yeah,” she says.

“He’s around with you is what you mean.”

“We’re friends.”

Foggy downs the rest of his bourbon. He leans against the couch and she’s surprised that he’s much calmer talking about Frank as opposed to Matt. He looks resigned and tired and even a little understanding.

“You’re sleeping with him aren’t you?" 

“No. Though, in the spirit of full transparency, it’s on the table.”

He nods. _Figured._ She remains quiet because she’s okay with him asking questions. They need to have this conversation. The thing about potentially being more than friends with Frank is that she’s going to have to stand in the truth of it without equivocating.

“Haven’t heard of any Punisher sightings in a long time.”

“He got the sort of legal pass that only Homeland Security can offer. He’s trying to do something with it.”

Foggy nods.

“Good.”

He hesitates before he turns to her.

“I think there are a lot of things I don’t know about you, Karen. Things that are important and that would make it easy, maybe even sensible, for you to be with a man like Frank. I think there are really good reasons why I don’t know about any of those things but I’d like you to tell me one day. And not months from now.”

She smiles because she loves him.

“Okay.”

“Okay. I need another drink.” 

___

She and Frank don’t get to see each other right away because of her work schedule and his. They text because it’s them and they can’t go too long without speaking. She actually crosses paths with Dinah Madani because her new story is connected to Madani’s case. Dinah gives her a wry smile when Karen shows up to her office for information.

They banter about their inability to stay out of trouble. They exchange tips and Dinah gives her as much as she can without compromising her case. They never talk about Frank. However, Karen does mention a taco spot she likes with exceptional margaritas on her way out. _Figure we should meet for information or something_. Dinah raises an eyebrow with a smirk. _For information, of course._

Karen Page discovers that Dinah Madani has the tolerance of a man twice her size.

___

She texts him a picture of white roses because he stopped surveilling her window a long time ago. She sends an immediate follow-up text so he won’t worry. The temperature is warmer these days and she wants to meet by the river. She likes the view of the bridge at night.

She leaves work early to change into a floral wrap dress and flats. The weather is nice and if the dress accentuates the length of her legs, well, fuck it. He gets there before her as she suspected he would. She watches him for a few minutes, takes in his broadness as he faces the river, elbows on the railing. He turns his head when she gets closer. She stops a few feet away and allows herself to be watched, He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth before releasing it to let his lips spread in _that_ grin. He shakes his head in a way that lets her know that, yeah, she should wear this dress again. She comes to stand right next to him with her back to the railing. It was so reminiscent to a moment that seemed like a lifetime ago. His eyes are back on the river again.

“Trying to kill me?” he asks.

She smiles with her eyes forward.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should.”

She turns to look at him and he does the same. They watch each other for a few moments because it’s easy to be here and be them. And they’re so close to something. They’re so close.

“Been a while since I’ve seen you,” he says.

It’s been exactly five days. She gets it though. She feels the same way.

“Did you miss me?”

She notices that her voice is soft, a lazy sort of drawl to it. He moves the arm closest to her so that it stretches across her body. He rests his hand on the railing and she’s effectively caged in.

“Yes.”

They occupy themselves by watching each other. He’ll sometimes turn back to the river and she’ll let her eyes drift to the sprinkling of people walking past. She likes the weight of his arm across her body, likes how easy it would be to just lean a few inches and kiss his lips. He notices her looking and gives her a gentle smile.

“I told you once that I’m kind of old-fashioned, yeah?”

She blinks slowly because she feels remarkably carefree. He smells good and this is their spot and they’ve been through hell together. She leans forward to place a kiss to his cheek even if she wants to put her lips somewhere else. She nods in response to his statement, figures he’s going somewhere with it. He leans to drag his nose across hers a few times and it makes her smile. She kisses it too.

“I, uh, I’m not really into the casual shit people seem to want nowadays. Never really been into it. Always cared too much. That’s, uh, what Bill used to say anyway.”

He looks towards the water and her eyes zero in on his face at the mention of his former best friend.  Conversations about Billy Russo happen occasionally because Frank still has nightmares sometimes. This particular mention does not seem to drag Frank into a shadowy place, not completely at least. He turns back to her and his eyes are clear and he’s still there with her.

“I can’t do casual with you. If we’re going to do this then I want to really fucking do it, alright? And look, it’s okay if you don’t want that, yeah? You don’t owe me anything. You got your whole life ahead of you.”

She smiles with a hint of amusement but mostly with affection.  

“So you’re saying that you want to be my boyfriend?" 

She’s teasing him and he laughs. He honest to God laughs and it has her laughing too. His eyes are playful and warm when he stops. 

“Look, I ain’t been someone’s boyfriend in a long fucking time, but yeah. Boyfriend. Lover. Partner. All that good shit.” 

She watches him. She bites her top lip and he raises an eyebrow because he knows that she’s’ thinking about something. He nudges her to prompt her to talk to him.

“And you’re okay with this? Being something with a title…after Maria? You had a wife, Frank. I…that’s a big deal. That matters to me.”

He nods like he expected the question. He holds her gaze, pulls her even closer while still letting her keep her back to the railing.

“Never been a fan of relationships without a name to ‘em, honestly. Plus, Maria would kick my fucking ass for even thinking about being with you and leaving the shit ambiguous. It was never like that with us. I was her boyfriend— “

He chuckles at some memory and she likes the way his face softens. She reaches out to run the back of her knuckles over his beard.

“—Then I was her fiancé and future baby daddy ‘cause I couldn’t keep my damn hands off her and she knew it. Then I was her husband. We always had a name. Like I said, not into that casual shit.”

She hums. Her eyes follow a couple walking by holding hands. She can feel his eyes on her.

“What do you want?” he asks.

His voice is low. He looks back to the water and she wonders if it’s to steel himself for her answer. She gets it but, surely, he has to know how she feels at this point.

“You don’t know already?” she counters.  

“Got shot in the head once, Karen. Could be misreading this whole situation. You gotta tell me.”

His eyes are filled with mirth and she hits him for being so glib about a gunshot wound to the head. He chuckles. She rolls her eyes. What a pair they make.

“I want you. I want you to walk me to work and complain when I work on stories that are dangerous, or so you say— “ 

He gives her a pointed look. She just smiles. 

“I want to fight and then make-up. Selfishly, I want to see you in a towel after you just get out of the shower because, if I’m being honest, I’ve thought about it and good lord, Frank.”

He blushes. He actually fucking blushes. She wonders what else she would have to say or do to get him to blush like that again. She makes a mental note.

“I want to come home to you. Really come home to you.”

He’s quiet and stares at her so intently, so assiduously, that she knows she must be blushing too. He moves her so that she’s standing right in front of him instead of pressed against his side. He places his arms on either side of her body, hands gripping the railing tightly. They’re the same height but he’s wider and this is, shit, it’s what she’s been waiting for. He looks around them, as vigilant as he always is, and she’s grateful that there aren’t many people around. He turns back to her and her skin gets even warmer than it already is.

He leans forward slowly, watching her the whole time. She sighs when he presses his lips to her throat because he remembers how she responded to it that time on her couch. Her body does that thing again where everything tightens. He presses another kiss higher on her neck and she puts her hands in his hair because he likes it and she likes doing it. It’s also to pull him away because he doesn’t seem to get how much kisses to her neck set her off. Or maybe he gets exactly how much.  The wily bastard.

“Frank,” she says in warning. 

“Hmm?” he says into her skin. She can feel him smiling.

“You know what.”

He does it again and laughs at the curse she lets out. She tugs on his hair and he lets out a small groan. He tries to stifle it but she hears it. Huh. That is both fascinating and delightful. He pulls away to look at her. He eyes her lips.

“Gonna kiss you now.”

“Hurry. The. Fuck. Up.”

He laughs again and she pulls him to her because he really can’t be trusted right now. Despite the way her skin is humming, the kiss is slow and deep and _God_ they should have done this a long time ago. Their noses bump a few times and she gets him to growl at her when she bites his lower lip and she _really_ likes that. She whimpers when he sucks her bottom lip in return. They slowly pull away from each other when they hear the distant laughter of a group of teenagers. She covers her mouth and closes her eyes. When she opens her eyes he looks almost satiated. She smiles and wipes her lip gloss from his mouth with her thumb.

“Well, shit,” he says.

She hums in agreement. She moves so that she’s standing against his side again because if not they’ll just end up doing that for another thirty minutes. She puts her hands to her face as if she can cool down her temperature that way. The look he’s giving her is helping absolutely nothing. _Stop it, Frank_. He gives her an innocent look and she is not deceived. He takes her hand and walks them away from the railing.

“Come on. Let me buy you dinner.”

“Trying to get under my dress, huh?”

“Eventually, yeah. Not tonight though, ma’am.”

They’re still them, teasing and playful and no bullshit. She laces her fingers through his. He lifts their hands to kiss the back of hers.

___

_I have a boyfriend. – KP_

_Is it Pete? Cause if not, I don’t like him. – LL_

_Lol. Thought you were my friend, Leo. – KP_

_Fine. I guess it’s okay if it’s not Pete. – LL_

_It’s Pete. – KP_

Karen frowns when five minutes go by and she gets no response. She considers texting Leo again when Frank’s alias pops up as an incoming call. She raises an eyebrow and answers.

“Told Leo, huh?”

“She moves fast.”

“David called me freaking out and shit.”

Karen laughs robustly at that. She listens to Frank grumble about his friend for another minute. She tells him she has to go back to work but that she’ll see him later. He says something that makes her blush to her toes. Ellison barges into her office just as she’s hanging up. He raises an eyebrow at the red tint of her skin.

Goddammit, Frank.


End file.
